Ian Creasey by The Hastillan Weed

Author:The Hastillan Weed [Weed, The Hastillan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-02-21T11:28:31+00:00

“Yes,” I said, “but we’re lucky they don’t spread underground. If the blackweed sent out rhizomes, like bracken, we’d never get the stuff out.”

“We should never have let it here in the first place,” said Keith. “How come we even let these aliens walk around without a biosuit, shedding microbes everywhere they go? We have more virus protection on our computers than we do on our biosphere—but we could survive without computers a lot easier than without a biosphere.” This tripped off his tongue with the ease of a well-rehearsed slogan.

“How long have you been caring about the biosphere?” I demanded. I don’t normally argue with the volunteers, but I couldn’t let this pass. “I haven’t seen you out here before. You didn’t notice when this riverbank got choked with Himalayan balsam—why are you so concerned about Hastillan blackweed?

You think the blackweed is the only problem we have? If you care about the environment so much, there’s plenty of other ways you could help.”

“But the aliens are the biggest threat we face. If these Hastillans can breathe our air, we shouldn’t let them anywhere near it. We should make the Earth a quarantine zone.”

I looked to Olibrys to see how she was taking this, but of course I couldn’t read the expression on her snout. In any case, her attention was taken up by someone trying to give her a book. I heard her say,

“—no need for Jesus.” Another volunteer sidled over, offering to sell Olibrys the pyramids of Egypt.

I smiled ruefully, realizing that we only had so many volunteers today because they’d heard an alien would be coming. They all had an agenda. Well, at least I could get some work out of them. Maybe the experience of doing something useful for once might give them a taste for it.

“Okay, if everyone’s finished their lunch, let’s get back to work.”

I went down to the river to get some water to put out the fire. As I climbed back up the bank, I heard a cry of “Ouch!” from Olibrys’s translator, followed by a fusillade of beeps.

“Sorry,” said Keith in a distinctly unapologetic tone. “I’d help you up, but I don’t want to get germs on my hand.”

I dropped the kettle and ran to the path, where I saw Olibrys picking herself up from the ground, brushing dead leaves from her carapace. “What happened?” I demanded.

“She tripped over my spade—the one I’m using to remove unwanted alien organisms,” said Keith. “Have you got any bleach so I can sterilize it?”

“His spade—” Olibrys began, then stopped. Her agitated cilia slowed to a stately wave, as if exercising diplomatic restraint.

“Was your spade placed flat on the ground with the blade pointing down?” I asked Keith.

“Guess not,” he said, his voice oozing self-satisfaction rather than regret.

“Then you’ve violated the safety instructions. Please leave the site immediately. You’ll be liable for any costs arising from this incident.” I turned to Olibrys. “I apologize for this. I assure you, his speech and behavior aren’t condoned by myself, Yorkshire Green Action, or—”

Keith flapped his arm in disgust.

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